I entered Venezuela near Santa Elena, a couple hours north of Boa Vista, Brazil. Once again, most people that I met warned me not to go to Venezuela. Almost without fail, everyone told me it was highly dangerous, everyone that lives there hates Gringos, and I would probably be kidnapped or killed for sure, but no doubt I would at least get stabbed and shot. However, after receiving each warning, I would ask the person if they had ever been to Venezuela. Without fail the answer was, “No, I have never been there, but my friend/uncle/cousin/sister/neighbor, etc went there and almost got killed, and said it was really dangerous, blah, blah, blah…..
OK, whatever. Let’s go to Venezuela and check it out.
Border formalities were straightforward and I was checked into Venezuela inside of 30 minutes with zero hassles. The border officials were polite and professional as well. The first town I pulled into was Santa Elena, just a few miles from the border. As I was wandering around town looking for a hotel, a local guy on a BMW 1200GS pulled up to me and asked me if i had a place to stay. I told him, not yet, so he simply said, “follow me.” It turns out that this guy Mario, owns a hotel in town with nice rooms and good parking. He gave me a discount to stay at his hotel, total cost per night…….free. After 10 minutes of arriving, Mario told to sit down, handed me an ice cold beer, had one of his employees wash all my clothes, and had another guy washing all the jungle mud off of my bike. Yup, it sure looks like its a highly dangerous country filled will horrible people that hate gringos and I probably should have stayed away, LOL!
Thanks so much for the great hospitality Mario!!!!
One of the main attractions of Venezuela is the Gran Sabana, a 5000 foot plateau of Mesas and countless waterfalls with scenic and safe camping. Unfortunately, just as I started into the Gran Sabana, it started raining, and never stopped. Looks like I brought all that fine weather with me from Brazil. So not being keen on camping in the pouring rain for days, I decided to press on and head toward Caracas for some much needed TLC for the bike, and to meet a guy named Silviu whom I have only known from a motorcycle internet forum.
Just like normal, the bike packed full of bags draws a curious crowd.
I arrived in Caracas and Silviu hooked me up with a place to freshen up the bike. The lone KTM around all those big BMW’s. The guy in the pic with me owned the first and only local Super Enduro I had seen in the Americas.
I did an oil change, air filter, chain and sprockets, fresh rubber, and even installed new friction plates for the clutch. The old ones still had plenty of life left in them after 40,000 miles, but I wanted to make sure the clutch would get me home. Also did a little overdue welding on the crappy HB luggage rack, cleaned the clutch oil jet, replaced a bunch of missing fasteners etc, etc.
This is a rear Ironman sprocket with 40,000 miles on it compared to the new one on top. Impressive. In contrast, a normal steel sprocket lasts about 10,000 miles before its totally shot.
Fresh rubber is always welcome. One thing to note is that my rear Woodys Superlace sealed rear wheel started leaking air. Turns out that there are numerous cracks in the wheel around the spoke nipples. So, I had to start running a tube in the rear. The tubeless rear was nice while it lasted though.
Each day I traveled in Venezuela, I was shocked at how much money I had in my pocket at the end of the day. Well, there is a reason for this. Check out the gas pump. Thats 13.5 liters for 1.3 B. The unofficial exchange rate is 8 B to the dollar. So, 1 B = 12 cents. Thats about 1 penny a liter. 4 cents per gallon for gasoline. I could fill my bike entirely for 28 cents. Put it this way, gasoline is so cheap that at some places I would fill up my bike, try to pay the attendant, and he would just wave me away. Too funny.
Overlooking Caracas.
After about a week in Caracas, Sliviu led me out of the city and I was on my way to Colombia. Silviu invited me into his home, and took days off of work to help me with whatever I needed. He drove me around town chasing down tires and parts and helped me with everything I needed to do to the bike. What incredible hospitality! Thanks so much hermano!
I thought it was funny when I parted ways with Silviu he told me to send him an email when I was “safe in Colombia.” How things change.
